GABRIELA YARELIZ

The Libraries

[Image via The University of Cambridge]

Thinking of autumn reminds me of wandering libraries. I have wandered many. There was the large one in Gainesville with all of the movie/DVD shelves. I would browse, waiting for my computer ticket number to come up so I could check my email at one of their computers. There was the large one in Ocala that had shelves and shelves of magazines. I would pick one up and sit at one of the large tables to flip through and dream. I loved their Spanish books section where I discovered Jorge Bucay and Paulo Coelho. There was the mystery book section where the covers always intrigued me, but never enough.

Then, there was the university library. It had these magical shelves that moved. I would take the footnotes from a lecture and look up the books to read them. I could renew them endlessly because no one cared. I loved the basement with maps, and the quiet lost rooms with rare books and wooden detailing in the walls. Then, there was the law library. It was illuminated by the soft glow of the table lamps, silence masking the savagery of some who would come to rip out pages to hoard knowledge.

No matter what library I found myself in, autumn was a season of knowledge and books. I stare at my shelves in my studio and smile. My shelves don’t move, and my books have all of their pages, but the stack awaits me still.

October 2022 Favorites

[Kate Moss and Johnny Depp via Pinterest]

Elon Musk tweeted, “The bird is freed.” Is it really? The Twitter deal is complete. (Insert Honey Badger laughter here– if you know, you know).

The month felt like it went by fast. The nights are longer and darker. Winter is at our doorstep. This month was more of a You’ve Got Mail month, but we are headed to the months where The Holiday movie is appropriate. I have grown to have an appreciation for the colder nights that invite us into more rest.

This month, I made a bean soup I am completely addicted to, from Rainbow Plant Life. Find it here. You’re welcome.

I reflected on wonder and autumn light. I am also moving through a writing course ever so slowly and learning about ayurveda from One Commune courses. We are closer to election day, and the more I speak with people and ask questions, the more I realize a good chunk of the electorate is quite uninformed (or misinformed). And I am not talking about points we disagree on, I am saying they literally don’t know facts and what people running actually stand for in their own words. It’s like we live life on assumptions these days. God helps us. I think it is like everything in life, we tend to believe what we want rather than giving an earnest glance at what is actually right in front of us.

I have a stack of Southern Living and Country Living magazines I want to flip through. I want to be ready to soak up all of the amazing fall photography.

Christmas is on the radar, and I am thinking of advent devotionals and candles. Memorable events from the month included a date night at a favorite restaurant and progress with wedding planning. Yes!

My goal for November is to wake up earlier, to wear more of my closet and plan ahead, and to make more soups. Does anyone have a potato soup recipe that can rival Outback’s? If so, drop it in the comments. I am interested! (Yes, I totally just made a pivot to talk about soup again).

As usual, I compile my favorite things from the things I read and watched throughout the month. You can find these below. We had no top post for October. It was a three-way tie among Autumn Morning on the Train, How to Shake off the Week, and My French Library. Thank you always for reading and for your lovely messages. We take a step toward winter, together. Off we go.

Quotes

There is a tide in the affairs of men.
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat,
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures. -Shakespeare

“I hold a beast, an angel, and a madman in me.” Dylan Thomas

“Without discipline, you live as a shell of the person you know you can be. And that’s a horrible way to live.” Grant Cardone

“Living a spiritual life isn’t about moving past the pain and suffering, but instead embracing it.” Gabrielle Bernstein

“Why else are we here if not to live with unreasonable passion for things?” Unknown

“Sometimes, I want to scream at New York City, but then I just walk the ten blocks home.” Delia Ephron

“If a person doesn’t have self-discipline they won’t hold others accountable.” Erwin McManus

“The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances. If there is any reaction, both are transformed.” C.G. Jung

“Speak with honesty, think with sincerity, and act with integrity.” Unknown

“Someone with half your IQ is making 10x as you because they aren’t smart enough to doubt themselves.” Ed Latimore

“People do not seem to realize that their opinion of the world is also a confession of their character.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

“This is the only poem I can read. I am the only one who can write it. I didn’t kill myself when things went wrong. I didn’t turn to drugs or teaching. I tried to sleep. But when I couldn’t sleep, I learned to write. I learned to write what might be read on nights like this by one like me.” Leonard Cohen

“What is a rebel? A man who says no.” Albert Camus

“I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason, and intellect has intended us to forgo their use.” Galileo Galilei

“Create a culture in which it is okay to make mistakes and unacceptable not to learn from them.” Ray Dalio

“Without God, there is no virtue because there is no prompting of the conscience… without God, there is a coarsening of the society; without God, democracy will not and cannot long endure.” Ronald Reagan

“Johnny told me: ‘We go out to dinner, put on a dress.’ I replied, ‘I do not have a dress.’ I was in a satin dress to the floor, and he picked up scissors and cut it to its knees. I still keep this piece. The same as our love. It was real.” Kate Moss

“Our hearts were meant to beat together, not the same.” Bob Goff

“Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages for your own joy.” Jack Kerouac

“When we don’t know our Master’s heart, we bury in fear what we should multiply in faith.” Lisa Bevere

Things

It was Kanye’s month. Kitson Los Angeles made a “Team Kanye” shirt. He was everywhere this month, in good and bad headlines. Every week, there was something new. I appreciate Jessica Kraus’ analysis of what is happening on the Ye front. It applies to more than just the Kanye scandals:

“There are a handful of valuable conversations we could be opening up right now about racism and mental health but instead we go straight to what is easiest: call out, cancel & divide. I refuse. So if you are tagging me, feeling justified in calling me terrible things because I didn’t repost the prescribed slides, I want to say that I see (and reject) your methods. I do not support antisemitism in any form, but I do believe conversations over cancellations is the key to progress through unity.

We should absolutely be talking about why antisemitism still exists today, but also, maybe, why black on black crime is so celebrated and profitable in the music industry if we are disgusted by race-inflicted stereotypes perpetuating violence. Things are complicated. Social media wants you to believe you can solve it with a recycled post, but we all know it takes us nowhere. You want Adidas to cancel Kanye? Fine, but then what? The divide (especially during elections) only profits the politicians who quite literally DGAF about any of us. Pay attention to what is decided for us. This is bigger than Kanye and an offensive tweet. It always is.”

The piece by the Canadian ethics professor for the Democracy Fund, all about COVID, the lies and whether we will get accountability.

Intrigued by

Laila Gohar (food artist): I have written about her many times in the past. She still captivates me. She is one of those people who is an original. She was featured in The New Yorker recently, here.

Charlotte Husson: Writer, fashionista, founder and cancer survivor. I am currently reading her book, L’impossible est mon espoir.

Is November calling you? Will Twitter be revolutionized? (Maybe slowly?) Will Kanye behave and stop provoking? (Probably never?) Will we elect the right people for the job? (I hope so). I guess we will have to wait and see.

Some months are for questions and others have answers. Every month brings a new beginning and a clean slate.

How to Shake Off the Week

“Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy.” Psalm 126:5

Today was a rough day. I won’t go into the details. I will pick up where I left off on Monday. But as I felt the overwhelm and edginess that comes with the feeling of being chewed and spit out, I sat on my couch and reviewed the last couple of passages I had read over the past month. My eyes fell on this verse again in Psalm 126. It meant something to me then, and still does.

I keep wondering what the recipe is for shaking off the week before Sabbath. How do we rest and forget about the insanity we just got dragged through? I think I learned the answer tonight. As I was studying the Bible, my mind drifted for a second to my worries. I got lost in my thoughts in the silence I have been craving all day.

I then thought, what if Jesus (and yes, I pictured Him like the one on The Chosen) was sitting across from me right now? How would He look at me? What would He say?

I thought of the kindness I would see in His eyes. The compassion, and the reminder that so many of my worries are resolvable or out of my control and in His. I would realize this was nothing compared to eternity. And suddenly, my perspective shifted. I felt focused. I felt free. And I felt loved.

The week lifted like a fog, and the sun rays warmed me and pierced right through. This exercise reminded me, He is near; I know this. So maybe, I should act like it.

Scavenging

By: Gabriela Yareliz

It had been a rainy day and the bus was delayed. I was the only one waiting for it. Maybe the transit people somehow knew it was just me and decided I wasn’t worth stopping for. Idiots, I thought to myself. I looked around me as if there was some hidden camera recording my ennui. No camera, and still, no bus. I looked down at my brown boots, the tiny yellow leaves carpeting the concrete below. As I looked down, I heard the sirens at a distance, and then closer, and closer, their red glow was the only bright light apart from a dull street lamp that was struggling for its life. I caught the reflection of the bright lights on the metallic silver tape striping a disfigured orange traffic barrel. I was exhausted. I glanced over at a shop two storefronts down. They had outdoor furniture, scarecrows and mums decorating the sidewalk just in front. I eyed the chair and decided to claim it for the time being.

I walked over as if asking for a favor, glancing back furtively. Still no bus in sight. I grabbed the plastic green chair that was on display and sat down. I dubbed it my public bench. I relaxed into the plastic that was hammocking my bottom, and moved my backpack to my lap. I was now part of the display. Night had fallen early, reminding us that winter was on its way. The mums shone like little suns we had felt absent during the overcast rainy day. On that cool autumn night, they warmed me somehow. They seemed to smile sympathetically, offering an apology for the weather, and I accepted their humble offer.

[Fiction inspired by a scavanger assignment for my Autumn Light (Beth Kempton) writing course]

Seeking Wonder

By: Gabriela Yareliz

Oh yes, the season is here. The other day, I woke up and heard the faint bouncing of a basketball at 7 am. Probably the cute Asian kid that lives next door. It was that rhythmic bounce on a slab of concrete in the middle of their tiny backyard. Their net is right on the fence area, which means that sometimes, when the kid misses, I have seen him climb the fence to retrieve the ball. The morning was cold. I did not want to leave my bed’s warmth. I peeked out from the covers and saw the foggy and chilly sunrise emerging.

I remembered those chilly days in PE when we would be doing the same, bouncing a basketball. I remember running laps outside and how the cold air would make your throat burn if you didn’t breathe properly. The side aches, the feet pounding the pavement, the wet grass on both sides of the track.

I’ve been remembering a lot. I came across an image on Pinterest, sort of vintage, of children peering into a toy store that is ready for Christmas. It reminded me of Samantha, from American Girl, when she first sees the doll she wants in the window. I remembered how, in this season, the toy companies would flood us with commercials and catalogs so that we would include our little desires on Christmas lists to Santa. If I had to use one word to describe winter sunrises and toy store windows adn the excitement of the season– it would be “wonder.”

Here’s a question, one that has nothing to do with materialism– when was the last time you felt wonder? And I don’t mean for a new purse, shoes or a new toy. No. I mean true wonder, where you were left sort of mouth-wide-open and impressed?

If it has been a while, slow down, pay close attention and be present. Feel the life pulsating through you and see the light around you. Leave something to chance. Remove a bit of the hardness and cynicism that settles in occasionally, and open the heart and emotions to what could surprise you.

It is the season of wonder.

I was waiting for the ‘C’ train but the ‘A’ kept coming…

By: Gabriela Yareliz

Sometimes, it is not faster to travel on the train. There are places where the train simply doesn’t go. It goes in circles but doesn’t cross through the circle. The inside of the Brooklyn circle requires walking.

I was standing on the platform waiting for the ‘C’ train, but there were delays. The ‘A’ kept coming, and nothing on the local tracks. I was sweating bullets; my raincoat sticking to me.

Due to the train delays and the fact that I was going to the inside of the circle, I decided to walk to my next destination. I walked along the streets, finding that places I had seen from a passenger seat of a car looked different up close, with me on the sidewalk. When I felt a pedestrian sharing the way was coming closely behind me or invading personal space (as is custom in NYC due to the volume of people and uneven walkways), my fingers would curl around the vial of pepper spray in my pocket, I was ready for anything.

On this particular day, it was raining. The leaves glowed yellow and the lamp posts on the parkway were lit. I saw an elegant elderly black couple walking toward me, under their umbrella saying inaudible things to each other, and I relaxed into my walking cadence. I quickly turned to see if anyone was behind me, and no. No one.

I passed a portable restroom (port o potty) that was probably jacked from an actual construction site. It was chained to a tree. I was intrigued and celebrated the notion of a public restroom for passerbys but there was no way I would approach it. Maybe it was a hiding place for drugs. Maybe, someone lived in there. I scurried forward in the downpour.

I saw the makeshift vendor market under the tents and realized I had arrived faster than anticipated to the area to which I was headed. I was hungry and tired of holding my umbrella. My allergies had made it so that I could barely open my eyes. I wanted to sit, and be left alone. I wanted to sneeze without judgment.

I opened my phone and looked for anything open. Everything looked closed. There was a “Pretty Girl” shop that sold cheap dollar garments. There was a group of men loudly chatting in front of it. I wondered who thought these garments were adequeate and not a waste of precious dollars. Cheap clothes, in the end, is always expensive.

I balanced my umbrella against my chest and discretely searched on my phone any local food place that might be open. The night was falling on the area, and it was dark. I stood under a wig store awning that sold colorful wigs and also leotards that looked fit for a stripper. Nothing was open except a small cafe down the way. I walked up to an intersection where the rain had gathered into a lake. Luckily, I had my rain boots because there was no way around this moat. I stepped right in.

I continued to walk. I passed a young man in a black hoodie. In his hand was an orange arrow (yes, like from an archery set). He was walking like he was on a mission with that arrow. I was confused and decided to ignore him. I continued to walk the blocks wondering how much farther I would need to go. I passed delis and random smoke shops.

Finally, a bright light. I saw a Haitian flag and heard the loud music. I heard a young woman inside yell, “Alexa, play Chris Brown radio.” The speaker started playing Chris Brown, and the woman behind the counter hollered, “Oh yes, where did he go?” The song was familiar. It reminded me of high school, sitting in my best friend’s car with her iPod plugged in.

I ordered a crepe and sat at the counter stools where there was a window. I watched the outdoor dining drown in the nonstop rain. A Grubhub sign fell over, and I leaned down to pick it up. As I looked up, I saw some feet dancing. My eyes continued to follow this dancing body, when I realized it was the young man in the black hoodie. He was doing some kind of cool dance to the Chris Brown song. In his hand was the orange arrow. He did a little show and continued to dance in the doorway. The employees behind the counter cheered.

I headed back to the window stools where I was invisible. I was exhausted. Behind me was a fridge full of strawberries. I sat there in the nostalgic music, rain coming down, and I felt like I was in a daze. I smiled as the young man finished his dance, and he walked out into the rain, made a right turn and then faded into the dark of the night with the bright arrow clutched in his right hand.

[A New York City vignette.]

As You Wish

By: Gabriela Yareliz

Taking a styling course was a fun investment. We are still in this weird place where we don’t dress up half as often as we used to, but we aren’t in loungewear 24/7, either. We are emerging from the dark pond of pandemic uniforms. I am starting to put some of my knowledge to use.

They say you have to study the rules to break them, and I have to say that while I have seen and studied many forms of dress and images, there is a style I find the most interesting, and that is the eclectic one. It sort of picks and borrows from them all. It isn’t always elegant or rule-following, and it isn’t always classic or trendy. It often falls in some weird category of its own. I love it.

I think it reminds me of being a kid. I liked simple things, but also weird things (still do). I tried to be inventive with what I had; I loved picking out random things and mixing them with hand-me-downs, and I didn’t care what people thought or whether it matched or not. I remember I had these little green shoes I wore with everything. I always had weird little sunglasses and tights for church.

Two people I love to watch on the style scene that I think embody this style are Alexa Chung and Camille Charriere. Both of them do their own thing, and I am here for it. (Carrie Bradshaw also did this well).

Alexa and Camille at Fashion Week 2022. Image via Camille Charriere.

I have learned that elegance is a form of showing respect to others. Trendiness is a waste of money. But there is something to be said about freedom. Freedom liberates you from whatever “it bag” or style shoe Instagram and marketing is trying to push down everyone’s throat.

Freedom allows you to be comfortable (or uncomfortable by choice). It isn’t rigid, and while there may be a brand or two mixed in, you aren’t a billboard– you are just you.

I love the idea of being memorable, not because of the logo stitched into your breast pocket or the monogram on your bag, but being memorable because you decided to be an original. We spend too much time being clones. We spend too much time begging for status (this is what was so annoying about the ridiculously expensive Abercrombie-Hollister-American Eagle crowd, back in the day).

Image via Camille Charriere (Her iconic wedding look).

It’s not for everyone, but I say, wear the pink cowboy hat. If you like it, wear it. Screw the convention and boxes of it all. Some people don’t consider what they wear the work of art; they consider the life they are living the masterpiece.

My French Library

By: Gabriela Yareliz

I lit my candles to get rid of the evidence in the air that I had been cooking and roasting potatoes all morning. To contextualize this post (I keep thinking of those in the future who may read this back if they are bored or looking for a good French read), the only rational candidate for governor in NYS had gunshots outside of his home (gracious! It is truly a time of intimidation politics), a plain low quality sweater costs $425, and autumn came this year like God flipped a switch. It is a time where you can’t visit a family member in ICU if you are healthy and unvaccinated, but if you are vaccinated and sick as a dog, they will let you in. The age of no reason, we shall call it.

This season started off with torrential rains. My home state of Florida is still reeling with the disaster unleashed by Ian, the monster storm. Autumn always make me want to cook and speak French. I don’t know what it is about this season. Maybe, I associate the French language with a degree of comfort and coziness. It sort of feels like home. I have been gravitating toward my French books lately, including some cookbooks I found at a used bookstore by Miss Maggie (I have been following Miss Maggie’s Kitchen for years).

I figured that as the world has gone mad, I would type on my laptop like it is a loud typewriter and passionately share the upcoming books on my French language reading list. These are my current picks (I own them all), and they are lined up and ready to go.

Truly, I can’t describe the pleasure I feel when I can buy a book. To be able to buy a book you have a burning desire to read is the definition of success I had in my mind as a kid (a kid whose reward was often books). Every time I get my hands on a book, I just hold it and think to myself, This is the life! Also, God bless Book Depository, for shipping international treasures one cannot find anywhere else, locally.

I am a big fan of Sophie Fontanel’s writing, I think I have all of her other books. I still haven’t tackled this one. Her books always make me think. They discuss things like aging, sexuality and femininity, fashion, how we relate to our parents and so much more. Apparently, this is one of her key works. Can’t wait to read it.

If you have followed me over the years, you know I am a die-hard Sarkozy fan. (Hilariously, my old French professor who was my friend and mentor despised him, to put it lightly– but he always holds a special place in my heart). He is audacious, has a flair for the traditional, very Républicain and has a seducing way of conducting politics, in my opinion. Gives me Nixon vibes. Take what you will from that, but I adore this French president. So how could I turn away from his latest volume of musings?

Apparently, if I am not mistaken, this is a book from the perspective of a child from embryo to childhood, with a twist of wit. I was curious and intrigued by the baby protagonist. I am all about a different perspective…

In all fairness, I am halfway through this book. It is philosophical, meaning you don’t need to read it cover to cover straight through, but the time has come to finish it.

I like the idea of exploring slowness. I started this one, and I love the writing style. you read it, and you are there.

A single woman in Paris… I am there. I picture this one to be a witty account, à la Carrie Bradshaw. I guess I will have to let you know once I am done with it.

I read the chapter titles, and this is about how feminine traits can save and make the world a better place. I used to listen to Bastide’s podcast La Poudre. Excited to read this.

A prize winner. This one (I heard from the recommender) is about the unconscious baggage women transfer to one another through generations (through language). This will be a serious but enlightening one.

Cozy season is upon us, which means more time to hit the book stacks. I can hardly wait.

Autumn Morning on the Train

Mornings can be strange. It is our first one without rain in almost a week. Sometimes, when I sit on the train, I wonder if something is wrong. People look at me intently, and I ask myself if I somehow forgot my pants or something. This morning, I got several of those intent looks. I felt a bit self-conscious, so I focused on my Kindle once I verified I had my pants on.

On these types of mornings, if you aren’t really awake, you are simply doing the basics. I tried to read the station banners after brackets of distraction, trying to activate my spidey vision, but failing. I climbed out of the masses of people, who all looked asleep (except for the ones who looked at me intently, like something was wrong— these must be the morning people).

Escalator was broken, so we all marched up the steps like a little ant army. Militant, apart from the huffing and puffing of some heavy set men behind me. Suddenly, when we reached the top, the floor opened up, and an Asian man appeared out of a hole in the floor with a dirty white binder. We were startled but kept marching. Can Narnia be accessed through the floor? I crossed the station to another train with a skittish little rat who followed me down the stairs and onto the next adventure.

September 2022 Favorites

Me (in my Pretty Woman dress–very important), dreaming of apple picking, raccoons, and baseball bats.

It’s officially autumn. What did I do this month? A lot. I bought a baseball bat, mostly because I was so sold by the Q&A on Amazon. One of the questions was: “Assuming the bat doesn’t function as expected, what’s the return policy for bloodstains?” The answer: “Depending on whose blood is on it, it might be worth more.” Hilarious. Who knew so many of us were looking for bats to combat the anarchy on these streets? (A note for posterity, if you call the police, they can do nothing and may not show up. This time of 2022 is a time of every man for himself + his guardian angel + bat).

I read Eric Metaxas’ new book, Letter to the American Church, which was brilliant and mirrored a lot of my thoughts in one of my favorite posts on this page, Leadership (inspired by Metaxas’ Bonhoeffer biography). My favorite book this month was Good Morning, Monster. This book was a shift in perspective. I learned so much about the world and myself. Obsessed. PLEASE READ THIS BOOK. Another fascinating read from the month was The Lost Art of Dress: The Women Who Once Made America Stylish.

This month, I also completed my course on C.S. Lewis (free course at Hillsdale College). It was marvelous. This course helped me see some of his writing in a different light. I also saw reruns of the old show, Just Shoot Me (very 1997).

I learned a lot this month. I processed a lot, as well. A new season begins. I got new towels and started lighting the cozy candles. I am excited to see all fall has in store for us. An important election season hangs before us. There is a lot at stake.

The important thing, no matter how September went for you is that we move forward. Plow forward. We are fighters. We are still standing. Like any good batter, we are ready to run home.

Top Post of the Month: Jeanne Damas’ Library

Articles

“You’re not the American Dream, Kim, you’re the American Nightmare.” Piers Morgan on the Kim K ‘American Dream’ feature (Source)

I found rest to be a recurring theme this month. Loved Rest is Necessary by Katherine May.

Loved this article on the art of noticing. Excerpt: “Ernest Hemingway said, ‘You should be able to go into a room and when you come out know everything that you saw there and not only that. If that room gave you any feeling you should know exactly what it was that gave you that feeling. Try that for practice.’ Now take that idea, and consider how a place makes you feel. Feelings are not something we can see, but rather that we can sense. Tap into that.”

In support of the weekly marriage meeting.

Quotes

“If Yahweh rested on the seventh day of creation, it would be foolish of us to believe that our success depends on our continued labor.” Louie Giglio

“We’re haunted. We’re spiritual. We’re sinners and saints; we’re drunkards and preachers. We create astoundingly soulful pieces of art, astoundingly soulful music.” Alton Brown on being Southern

“I remembered that the real world was wide, and that a varied field of hopes and fears, of sensations and excitements, awaited those who had the courage to go forth into its expanse, to seek real knowledge of life amidst its perils.” Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“This one is for those doing holy work outside the safety of a sanctuary… Your sermons flow through lesson plans and medical reports, your prayers are whispered over a scared patient or frustrated co-worker and your worship flows from your car in rush hour. Ministry is wherever you are and wherever you go because you know the One who breaks chains and sets captives free and you don’t need a title of pastor to proclaim His name. Thank you for being the hands and feet of Jesus in unexpected places, for being on a mission and commission where people are most vulnerable. You are the best of us as you go undercover and undetected as ambassadors of Christ.” @Raisedtostay

“If all experienced God in the same way and returned Him an identical worship, the song of the Church triumphant would have no symphony, it would be played like an orchestra in which all instruments played the same note.” C.S. Lewis

“It is far easier to ignore God’s call than to acknowledge it and rise to fulfill it, but it is more difficult and painful than anything to love with the results of ignoring God’s call. Let the reader understand.” Eric Metaxas, Letter to the American Church

“In religious terms, the apocalypse involves a sudden vision of the heavens opening and revealing their secrets— secrets that make it easier to understand earthly realities.” Catherine Gildiner

“There is a rite of passage when you are young and in the city: walking all night.” Sara Billups

“It’s important that we remind ourselves – life doesn’t need to make sense all the time. The miracle is that things are happening even if we can’t see it all clearly. So trust in that, and focus on following your curiosities, focus on how you feel, and listen to your instincts. Don’t project too much about where that’s going to lead you. Because – trust me – life will probably take you to someplace better than you ever dared to dream of.” @Violette_Fr

“You misunderstand repentance if you believe it is asking God for forgiveness.” @riyoung31

“It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.” J. Krishnamurti

“I don’t think he is a narcissist. I think he is just pathetic.” Jesus Enrique Rosas on Prince Harry

“Love means vulnerability; people who love you can also hurt you. Making oneself vulnerable is the ultimate bravery.” Catherine Gildiner

“Judge someone by their questions rather than their answers.” Voltaire

“The coolest thing to get canceled for is for speaking the truth.” Sudan Archives, Dazed

“We have to rediscover not just the law of free speech. We also have to rediscover a culture of free speech.” David French

“Your emotional intelligence and intuition will offend everyone who can’t run a game on you.” Steve Harvey

“God defines justice– not activists. God defines marriage– not government. God defines wisdom– not the university. God defines evil– not the majority. God defines history– not kings. God defines sin– not psychologists. God defines happiness– not our feelings.” Justin Bullington

“Love isn’t something we fall into; it’s someone we become.” Bob Goff

“You can’t dismiss your wife’s emotions and feelings without making her masculine. A massive part of femininity has to do with emotions. Emotions of every kind, with more passion behind them, and more prone to change. This is not a flaw; it’s a feature. But many men see this as a flaw, or at the very least, an annoyance. You want your wife to be more feminine, bro? You want her to be carefree and gentle and nurturing and joyful and kind? You want her to be submissive and dress femininely and have a heart that trusts you? Then stop being dismissive, or even mocking, of that which is at the core of her femininity; her feelings and emotions. One of the most basic things a woman needs from a man in relationship is to truly believe that he cares about how she feels. She needs to know that he will not only hear her feelings as legitimate, but also fight to protect her and make changes to avoid her being hurt. Vulnerability is a key element to a woman’s feelings. If you dismiss her feelings, she will become less vulnerable and build the walls up around her heart. If walls get built up, the more hard traits that resemble masculine nature come out. So if you have made the mistake of thinking your wife’s feelings are frivolous things and treated them as such, repent to her and to God. You have attacked something innate to how she was created, and have not honored her as the weaker vessel.” @the.masculine.mandate

“Normal is not strong or tough enough to withstand the impacts of life’s major blows.” Elena Cardone

“Talk about your blessings more than you talk about your problems.” Unknown

Videos

Generally speaking, very on point regarding all family, parenting and a must if you are following the Britney Spears drama.

People I am Intrigued By

Catherine Gildiner

Elena Cardone